


What's Owed

by dragonspell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Deadlock Jesse McCree, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: The jewels and pretty clothes are getting snapped up fast, but that’s not what Jesse’s after.  His clothes are good enough and he ain’t got no one to impress like some of the others, no sweetheart to be appreciative of a pretty thing.  Money, too, he’s good with.  He’s got enough squirreled away for that mythical rainy day.  No, Jesse’s thinking more along the lines of a pretty face and warm skin.Jesse’s pick is not the prettiest of the bunch—that one got snapped up eight rounds ago—but he’s not exactly hard on the eyes, either.  In fact, he’s downright gorgeous, to be completely honest.  Shiny black hair falling to about mid-back, pretty eyes trained on the floor because he’s too smart to make eye contact, and there’s definitely some bulk under that slick suit of his.  More than looks, though, there’s something captivating about him.  This one, he’s like that moment before the storm comes crashing down on you, all still-like until you’re least expecting it, then boom, you’re done for before you know it.  Jesse likes that.(Or Deadlock McCree takes his share of the gang's haul. NON-CON)
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 16
Kudos: 204





	What's Owed

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for Rape/Non-Con. This is a McCree that was never taken in by Overwatch. Hanzo says no and Jesse ignores him.

Jefe’s already taken what he wanted from the assembled treasures, scooping up some old statue and holding it up with a big grin so that everyone could admire it. He’d seemed pretty pleased. Personally, Jesse didn’t get it. The statue was pretty enough sure, some woman with more hair than clothes, but other than a little bit of looking, all in all, it’s pretty useless in Jesse’s opinion. Paperweight. Apparently worth a fortune, though, considering how much Jefe had wanted it and the lengths that they’d had to go through to get it. The fellas guarding it had fought pretty hard.

Jesse doesn’t really have an eye for that kind of stuff. He appreciates beauty, just of another kind. Usually, all Jesse gets to do is look, too, but he’s looking to change that. He’s just got to wait his turn.

This latest haul had been a good one, riches-for-all type stuff. The men transporting it had been plenty mean, but also conceited and a little bit stupid, thinking that they could pass through Deadlock territory without paying the toll. No one gets through the canyon without paying for the pleasure. Now here they are, down beneath the desert they thought to cross for free, everything ripe for the picking and not a soul knowing where they are excepting the Deadlock gang.

The boys have been taking what they want from the pile and everyone’s been following the rules because no one wants a fight when there’s a chance that both sides might wind up dead, the winner being shot to be made an example of. Jefe set the rules a long time ago to stop shit like that and he doesn’t like anyone stepping out of line. Hell, he might shoot you just ‘cause.

So Jesse sits and waits as the bosses all take their turns and then work on down the line of grunts. Now, Jesse ain’t the lowest man on the totem pole—not by a long shot—but he’s not exactly high, either, and he’s feeling a little anxious. They’re only allowed one thing and there’s plenty to go around, but Jesse’s had his heart set since the moment he first got to look at the pile of loot.

The jewels and pretty clothes are getting snapped up fast, but that’s not what Jesse’s after. His clothes are good enough and he ain’t got no one to impress like some of the others, no sweetheart to be appreciative of a pretty thing. Money, too, he’s good with. He’s got enough squirreled away for that mythical rainy day. No, Jesse’s thinking more along the lines of a pretty face and warm skin.

It’s been all he could think about since they started.

There’s certain rules to follow if you choose to claim a captive as your share, limits and whatnot in case the ransom’s too good but Jesse’s fine with all of them. He’s just looking for a good time seeing as how it’s been awhile. Some of the boys, they like pain, like inflicting it, but Jesse’s never been the sort. He hurts because he has to, not because he wants to. 

No killing, maiming, no escaping, and if you want to keep ‘em, you gotta pay for them—food, clothes, ransom if it’s offered. Jesse can live with that. He’s seen plenty of the fellas take up with prisoners before, some just for the night, others for damn near the rest of their lives—which can get pretty expensive unless they’re like Lucas and signing up alongside his beau. Jesse ain’t looking for commitment, but a night or two wouldn’t be remiss. 

Now he just hopes that he gets his pick, because he’s not the only one that’s looking for a little fun tonight. A couple of the prisoners got snatched up real quick and dragged off to the back. If Jesse cares to listen, he can hear Bear showing off his catch to the rookies. Bear likes doing shit like that, making ‘em crawl and beg and whatnot. Jesse likes his to be a bit more private like, but to each his own. If Jesse’s learned nothing from being in Deadlock, it’s to mind his own goddamned business. Men that don’t have a funny way of disappearing around here. 

Sometimes you find their bodies and sometimes you don’t.

Jesse’s pick is not the prettiest of the bunch—that one got snapped up eight rounds ago—but he’s not exactly hard on the eyes, either. In fact, he’s downright gorgeous, to be completely honest. Shiny black hair falling to about mid-back, pretty eyes trained on the floor because he’s too smart to make eye contact, and there’s definitely some bulk under that slick suit of his. More than looks, though, there’s something captivating about him. The pretty one, he’d been shaking and sniveling, fighting his bonds and wasting his energy. Jesse isn’t interested in all that fuss. This one, he’s like that moment before the storm comes crashing down on you, all still-like until you’re least expecting it, then boom, you’re done for before you know it. Jesse likes that.

Most of the boys have been passing this one by, a couple talking about how he and a few others seem to have given up but anyone with half a brain knows differently. The fella, he ain’t given up shit. He’s waiting. He’s surviving. Down on his knees in the dirt with his hands tied behind his back in this godforsaken cave and he’s still thinking about how he’s going to make it out of this. And that right there makes the man hotter than the midday sun.

Jesse wants him bad.

There’s two more picks to go before Jesse gets to make his choice. Ramirez, Jesse ain’t worried about. He’s for sure looking to score some trinket for that girl he’s sweet on over at the diner, but Creek is a bit of a wild card. Usually, he’s one for the material goods, maybe some alchohol, maybe some new blankets, but once in a while, he likes to pick himself a pretty one and have a little fun. He likes it when they fight.

Jesse makes sure to keep his eyes elsewhere, not wanting to give anyone the heads up on what he’d like before it’s his turn. He wouldn’t put it past Creek to base his choice purely on depriving Jesse. Jesse would be lying if he said he’d never done the same himself before.

The men that are left all have their heads down, not looking to attract attention themselves, because they found out real quick what happens to those who stand out. Bear’s pick is starting to cry—and, oh, that’s a big mistake. Jesse ain’t ever going to understand what’s so sexy about tears but they really get Bear going. Jesse figures that the poor guy’s got about ten minutes before he ends up with Bear’s cock stuck in him every which way. Hopefully in Bear’s room and not out in the open, but Jesse ain’t planning on being around to complain.

Sure enough, Ramirez chooses a silky scarf, pulling it out of the loot pile as some of the guys whistle. He waves it around a little, showing it off like he’s supposed to, then pockets it and lets Creek have his go. Jesse’s breath catches in his throat and he forces it out. Got to act natural. Good news is that Creek doesn’t seem too interested in the side that Jesse’s guy is sitting on, heading on over to the left. He plays with a few of the prisoners, petting their hair and looking for their reactions, but when they don’t give him anything, he loses interest and pulls out a rug. With a nod, he pronounces it acceptable and holds it up.

Jesse smiles. Good enough. He slides off his perch and saunters up, putting on a show like he knows he’s supposed to. He wanders along the outskirts of the pile, taking his time and pretending like he’s having a hard time making a choice. He knows that most of the boys are expecting him to go for the booze or the boots. That’s along the lines of what Jesse usually picks and they are mighty fine boots. Jesse might be tempted if he hadn’t picked up some new ones just last week. The booze, he’s got stockpiled ‘til the snow flies—and considering that they’re in the desert, that’s mighty rare.

“Come on, McCree, don’t take all day. Some of us are waiting here!”

Jesse tips his hat towards Ivan as he strolls down the line of prisoners. “Just want to be sure,” he says. He stops in front of a guy three down from his pick—pretty face, slim build—because it won’t do to let the boys know how stuck he is. There are rules, but that doesn’t stop all sorts of unpleasantness from going down. Jesse doesn’t think that he’s pissed anybody off lately, but you can’t be too sure.

He pets the guy’s hair, just like Creek, then turns to the next.

“Looking for a little fun, McCree?” Gomez laughs as a few of the boys whistle. 

“Thinking so,” Jesse replies and finally makes his way to the guy he’s had his eye on all damn day. He runs his fingers through that shiny black hair and is pleased to find it soft to the touch. The man shifts his weight on his knees like he’s considering doing something ill-advised before he thinks better of it and only turns his head to the side. He’s got a good profile, angular and masculine, and Jesse’s already starting to daydream about that mouth. Jesse brushes a finger over the man’s bottom lip, hears the sharp little intake of breath, and grins. “Reckon this one will do real nice.” Jesse clamps down on the man’s arm and drags him to his feet as the boys whistle around him. The man stumbles, legs likely locked up from being left kneeling for so long. “Careful,” Jesse murmurs as he catches him, wrapping an arm underneath the man’s bound hands. “Wouldn’t want you to take a tumble there, sweetheart.”

The man’s eyes dart up to meet Jesse’s and Jesse’s heart gives a little squeeze. _Damn_ , but the man is beautiful. He’s got one of those ageless faces, unplacable, and he looks not unlike the samurai warriors in those old movies that Carlos lets him borrow from time to time—like he’s going to be young for all eternity. There’s a touch of anger in the man’s narrow-eyed gaze, mixed with a hint of fear that softens his brow and makes him a little bit more human. Jesse winks at him. “What’s your name, sugar?” The man pulls away from him, putting a few inches of space between them. “I asked you a question, darlin’.” The man doesn’t look at him and Jesse grabs his face to turn it back around.

“He don’t speak no English,” Ivan says, leaning forward on his rock.

“Sounds like you don’t neither,” Jesse snaps back.

Ivan rolls his eyes. “Just look at ‘em. He ain’t the English-speaking type. I bet he’s got one of those _moon_ -speak languages.” Ivan spews out a line of gibberish then laughs so hard he nearly falls backward off his rock.

The man cuts his eyes over to Ivan with a look that could make a coyote cower. “Naw,” Jesse disagrees, “he speaks English. He just don’t want to speak to the likes of you.” Ivan blurts some more gibberish and laughs again. Jesse decides to ignore him. He looks back at the man’s pretty face and traces the line of his trimmed beard. “You don’t give me a name, darlin’, and I’m just going to have to give you one.” The man looks away, his black hair slipping to hide part of his face, and Jesse shrugs. “Fine,” he says, giving himself a little bit of self-satisfaction by touching the man’s silky hair again. He brushes a lock back behind the man’s ear and quirks a smile when he’s allowed to do so without protest. So far, this is looking pretty promising. “Give me a moment to think and I’ll come up with something to call ya.”

Of course, you don’t always need the names of the people that you fuck, but Jesse likes to have ‘em, just the same. Makes it a little bit more personable.

Jesse starts leading the man off the main floor, ready to get him to somewhere private—or at least away from Ivan. “Finally!” Jacobi declares and jumps up to take his turn. Jesse only gets about five steps, though, before the man jerks out of his hold.

“Hey!” Jesse makes a grab for the man but he’s a hair too slow, coming up with nothing but air as the man darts back towards the loot pile. “Get back here!” Jesse lunges again, but the man ducks, grabbing something up out of the pile, knocking aside a few odds and ends that clatter across the hard stone of the cave floor. Jesse swings around as the man rises back up, wondering if he’s going to have to fight, but the man stands still as if he hadn’t just tried to escape. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jesse demands, anger starting to bubble up. It’s mixed with a sharp tinge of fear because if any of the boys call for him to punish his pick for this transgression, there ain’t going to be a whole lot that Jesse will be able to do other than exactly what he’s told. That would just shoot all his plans to shit. Jesse grabs the man’s arm roughly, anger fueling him and needing to assert just who is in charge.

The man flows with Jesse’s sharp tug, stepping back into Jesse’s space. His eyes look away submissively but Jesse isn’t fooled for a second. What he’s got here is no kitten, no matter how much pretending the man does. “What was that all about?” He spins the man around to find that his pick has a made a pick of his own. Behind his back, the man has his fingers clenched around a composite recurve bow with dragon designs. “You little sneak.” Jesse tries to pull it away but the man holds onto it tight. “Were you planning on using that?”

“Hey, McCree, you can’t choose two!”

“I didn’t!” Jesse shouts back. “You’re going to need to return that.” The man ignores him. Jesse tries to yank it away again but all of that bulk that Jesse had been admiring underneath the man’s suit isn’t for show. Bound or not, the man’s got one hell of a grip on that bow.

“Fuck,” Jacobi says, “Just go already! I want my share!”

Jesse huffs and drags the man towards the back again. Maybe he can just get the man out of sight and it won’t matter anymore.

“Why’s he get two?”

“It’s just a goddamned bow,” Jacobi snarls. “You lookin’ to trade in your six shooter for a bow?”

“Well, no...”

Josephine steps out from the shadows where she’s been monitoring the choosing and Jesse comes to a stop, knowing better than to step past Josephine if she has something to say. She gives him a quick smile. “Jesse,” she says then turns her attention to Jesse’s pick. Jesse’s heart thumps in his chest. One word and all of Jesse’s planning could mean jack shit. Jesse squeezes the man’s arm, trying to silently communicate for him to cooperate as Josephine walks around to inspect the tight hold that the man has on the bow.

“I think you might have picked a troublemaker, Jesse,” Josephine says, amusement in her voice. Jesse shrugs because it’s not like he can deny it after that little show and the evidence still in the man’s hand. “A dragon.” 

Josephine waits for a response and Jesse nods. “Yes, ma’am. Thinking about calling him that actually.” It sounds good to say and it’s not all a lie. The more Jesse thinks about it, the more he likes the name.

“Dragon?” Jesse nods again. “Might suit him.” Josephine spends a few more moments admiring Jesse’s choice, then snaps her fingers. “The bow is his. No arrows.” Judgment pronounced, Josephine slinks back into the shadows and Jesse dares to breathe again.

With Josephine’s decree, the rest of the gang loses interest in Jesse, having already seen his pick, and focus back on the loot pile. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Jesse drags his pick off the main floor and out of the assembled crowd into the rabbit warren of hallways that cut through the rock. “Reckon ‘Dragon’ will be alright? Seems fittin’ seeing as how it’s on that bow of yours.” The man walks beside Jesse and says nothing. “Dragon it is then,” Jesse says and pulls him into a corridor to the right. “I’m the third door down, not too far.”

Dragon walks passively beside Jesse, contrasting with the unrelenting grip he still has on the bow. Must be some kind of importance because Jesse can’t see risking all that just to have it. “It’s nice.” Dragon glances up and him and Jesse nods to indicate the weapon. “The bow, I mean.”

Dragon studies him for a moment, looking for the trick. When he doesn’t find one, he nods in return. 

“See, I knew you knew English.” Jesse grins. He presses his palm to the reader and listens for the beep, laughing as Dragon’s brow furls at the sophisticated biometrics scanner. Finding one in a damn cave is unexpected to say the least, Jesse’s aware. “I know it’s a cave and all, but we’re not completely uncivilized out here.” 

Just mostly. 

Jesse urges Dragon inside and latches the door behind them. It doesn’t pay to have unlocked doors in a den of thieves. Not that locks stop any of them, but it does slow them down. “Well, here we are.” Dragon glances around and comes back to Jesse—rather quickly, Jesse thinks. Jesse shrugs. “It ain’t much but it’s home.” It’s not like he ever gets a chance at the nice furniture. That always goes to the higher-ups. What Jesse has, though, is cozy enough. Jesse slides by Dragon and grabs the open bottle of whiskey off the table. “Must be mighty thirsty, all things considered.” Dragon and the rest had been captured over by the bridge, which meant quite a ways walking to get to the hideout and considering that it was Jeremiah that had led the raid on the train, they had definitely been walking. Jeremiah is like that.

Personally, Jesse can’t see wasting the time, but Jeremiah seems to like the slow plod back, citing all sorts of nonsense about the transports not having enough room or how one or another is giving him a bad look, that kind of thing. Jesse thinks that Jeremiah just gets off on watching fellas trudge through the desert in the hot sun, sadistic bastard. To each their own, though, he figures. Still better than Bear’s occasional public performances.

Jesse pours a few fingers’ worth of whiskey into a glass and holds it up to Dragon’s lips. “Want some?” Dragon wrinkles his nose and turns his head away. A firm ‘no’ if Jesse’s ever seen one. “Suit yourself,” Jesse says and takes a drink before setting it down. The whiskey burns down his throat and settles in his belly, warming him from the inside out. Fucking rotgut, but Jesse doesn’t get out the good stuff unless there’s a special occasion. The cheap shit will get you just as drunk as anything else.

Maybe he’ll break into his stash a little later, see if Dragon’s amendable to drinking a higher quality booze. If he’s not, it ain’t like it will go to waste.

Figuring that he’s done a good enough job playing at being a host, Jesse gives in to the urge to touch Dragon’s hair again, stroking his fingers along the black locks. Dragon keeps his head down but Jesse don’t mind. It gives him more of a chance to admire. The man could use a bath and maybe later Jesse will get him one, but right now, Jesse ain’t going to mind a little bit of desert dust, not if it’s on a man as gorgeous as the one in front of him. He pulls Dragon flush against him and tilts the man’s head upward to get a good look at his pretty face again. Dragon’s eyes widen as Jesse looks down at him and Jesse smiles. “’Bout time we got down to it, huh, darlin’?” Jesse asks. 

Damn, but Jesse’s looking forward to this; he’s about ready to shake out of his own skin anticipating it. It’s been awhile, to say the least—just him and his right hand making a little time together for far too long—and now he’s got a good-looking man standing in front of him. 

Jesse is going to enjoy the hell out of this.

Dragon’s nearly a head shorter than him, making Jesse have to bend to get to him properly, and Jesse rather likes that. It makes him feel like a giant, like he’s the biggest and the baddest there is, like no one can touch him. Bit of a rarity, that, living in a gang of evil sons of bitches, so Jesse takes it when he can.

When their lips touch, a jolt runs through Dragon, stiffening his body like a board in Jesse’s arms, despite the softness of his mouth. He stays unresponsive despite Jesse’s best efforts, and if it weren’t for the warmth of him underneath Jesse’s hands, Jesse might as well be kissing a rock. Disappointing but understandable. 

And workable. It’s not like Jesse _requires_ Dragon’s participation in this; he’d just like it. Makes the whole thing better, in Jesse’s opinion. It’s a little sour, otherwise. He can still get off, cooperation or no, but when there’s a mutual satisfaction, there’s not that lingering sense of having done something wrong that Jesse’s not a fan of. 

It ain’t wrong to take what’s his and Jesse doesn’t need no sad eyes telling him otherwise, damn it. Trying again, Jesse goes back for another kiss, his hands raising to cup Dragon’s face as his lips gently try to coax a response.

Still nothing. Well, hell. Jesse pulls away and licks his lips as Dragon stares at him, as wide-eyed as a rabbit caught in snare. “That couldn’t have been your first kiss, darlin’,” Jesse says. “Don’t look so surprised.” He tilts his head to the side as a thought occurs to him. “Or perhaps that was your first kiss with another man.” Hardly a rarity, even in this day and age, even if never was Jesse’s life. He’d kissed his first guy at age 14 and at the time had thought the rest of the world had similar experiences but now he knows better. Some guys do and some don’t. “Works the same way, I’ll tell ya.” Women, men, Jesse doesn’t mind. He just likes kissing. 

Dragon’s eyes narrow as a fetching blush starts to color his cheeks and Jesse knows that he just hit the nail on the head. Dragon ducks his head to hide in his hair again. “Oh, no, darlin’, don’t do that. I want to see ya.” He pushes the hair back behind Dragon’s ears

Thinking that he should take this somewhere where he and Dragon can get a bit more horizontal, Jesse takes a step back towards the couch, pulling Dragon along with him. A glance behind him, though, tells him that he should make alternate arrangements because he ain’t picked up in a long while. Magazines, dirty clothes, empty bottles—all sorts of shit is scattered haphazardly over the couch. Jesse could clear it with a few sweeps of his arm, but it ain’t exactly conducive to the mood that he’s trying to set. Besides, his bed is relatively clean. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, huh, sugar?”

He slides his hands to Dragon’s elbows where they’re bent behind his back, and urges him forward. At first, Dragon resists, still stuck in place from a kiss, but when Jesse pulls again, his legs sluggishly start to work, propelling him forward. “That’s it,” Jesse coaxes. “You’re so pretty.” He stops for a moment to let Dragon run into him, then drops his head to nuzzle at Dragon’s throat. He feels the movement of Dragon’s skin as he swallows and places a kiss under his jaw. “You smell nice, too.” It’s faint, but there’s a hint of cologne lingering on Dragon’s skin, not quite erased by sweat and dirt. Dragon inhales sharply.

With his trim suit and neat beard, Dragon strikes Jesse as the type of guy that likes to keep clean and once again he wonders if he might be able to score a bath for the man after they’re done here. For all the tech they have throughout the entire cave system, plumbing’s still rather an issue. Sometimes it works and sometimes it don’t. Still, couldn’t hurt to try. Jesse bets that Dragon’s one of those guys that smells good all on his own, just naturally appealing.

Jesse’s place ain’t very big—just a glorified hole in the ground more than anything else—and getting from the living room proper to the bedroom is only a matter of a few feet, but Jesse’s never had much to complain about. He ain’t ever needed a whole lot of space, just a place to hang his hat, and right now with his blood decidedly running south, he’s happy to have the bed so close.

Dragon’s breathing picks up speed the closer that they get to the bed, chugging along like a train fixing to derail until it hits the point that Jesse’s afraid the man might be starting to hyperventilate. Can’t have the man passing out on him. ‘Sides, doctors are mighty rare in Deadlock territory. If Dragon works himself up into a panic attack or something else, there ain’t going to be a whole lot that Jesse will be able to do for him except to let him ride it out. Looking to head the train off at the pass, Jesse presses his palm against Dragon’s heaving chest. “Easy there, darlin’,” he whispers. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” Jesse will make sure of that if Dragon lets him. Jesse’s rather fond of making his partners feel good. He slides his hands back up to Dragon’s face and tilts his head up. Dragon keeps his eyes averted but stays where Jesse put him. He’s looking a little pale and Jesse runs his thumbs over the curve of Dragon’s cheeks. Yeah, that’s definite fear written plain as day. “You make this easy and I’ll be real gentle with you, darlin’, I promise.” He presses a kiss to Dragon’s lips, keeping it soft and as welcoming as he can, trying to convey his intentions of easy pleasure.

He doesn’t mean to hurt Dragon. He just wants them to have a good time. That’s not so bad, is it? Be nice if Dragon would cooperate.

Jesse sits on the bed and pulls the still standing Dragon between his legs, figuring that putting himself on the lower level might help Dragon to relax a little. It gives the appearance of some lotus of control being in Dragon’s hands, no matter how tied up he currently is. It has the added bonus of putting the man’s chest front and center, right in Jesse’s face. Icing is what that is.

Jesse could untie Dragon’s hands, sure enough, but he gets the feeling given Dragon’s current state that it wouldn’t be good for either of them. Dragon might end up spooking and doing something that they’ll both regret.

Keeping his hands gentle, Jesse skims down over Dragon’s chest in slow, soothing circles, feeling the solid bulk beneath the fine clothes. There’s definitely something to the man underneath his tailored suit and Jesse is impatient to find out. As soon as Dragon’s breathing starts to slow from it’s breakneck pace, Jesse switches gears and starts to undo the buttons of Dragon’s clothes, working his way down. Dragon makes a soft sound in his throat but otherwise holds still and lets Jesse do as he likes which is all well and fine in Jesse’s book. It’d be a crying shame if he had to ruin Dragon’s fancy clothes. The man looks real nice in them. 

They’re better than anything Jesse can usually get a hold of, that’s for sure.

The vest peels off like a strip of wrapping paper, a part of Dragon’s outer covering pulling away with most still left behind. Jesse lets it dangle and moves on, eager to uncover more. Anticipation thrums through his veins with each bit that manages to peel off. Above him, Dragon’s breathing has taken on a slight rasp but otherwise stays even and Jesse ignores it. Dragon’s just going to have to adapt to his new situation. Best for all involved if he does and Jesse’s got faith that the man can figure it out. He’s not the first to have to do so.

Jesse slips the first few buttons of Dragon’s shirt free and parts the sides to reveal a soft undershirt that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, hugging every little line and curve like it does. Never one to restrain himself if he doesn’t have to, Jesse reaches in and gets his hand on the hard plane of Dragon’s chest. Jesse knew that the man was built like a goddamned brick house underneath all those clothes. He grins up at Dragon as his palm starts to map out each curve of Dragon’s toned body. “It ain’t my birthday but damned if you ain’t one hell of a present, honeybee.”

Dragon tosses his head to the side to stare at the wall as his muscles flex beneath Jesse’s hand. “Nothing to be afraid of, darlin’,” Jesse tells him and pulls the undershirt up enough to dip his fingers beneath it and finally touch skin. Dragon’s eyes flutter closed as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Jesse presses his palm flat against the flexing muscle and waits for Dragon to settle. “You can look if you want, but you don’t have to. You can just let me make you feel good.” Jesse’s okay if Dragon just wants to look to the side and think his country of something. ‘Course, he’d prefer it if Dragon were to enjoy himself and stay in the here and now, but Jesse ain’t going to make a fuss either way.

A little hint of teeth shows between Dragon’s lips, biting down and sucking the bottom into his mouth before releasing it. It gives him away. Jesse pulls both shirts free of Dragon’s belt, sliding the overshirt over Dragon’s shoulders to let it dangle along his bound arms with the vest while pushing up his undershirt to his armpits to bare his chest to Jesse’s hungry gaze.

Better than a damn statue any day and twice as pretty. 

There’s a tattoo that Jesse can partially see now, scales that run down the length of the man’s arm and bury themselves beneath his undershirt and emerge out the underside. Jesse runs his fingers over the inked lines. “Well, this is beautiful,” he murmurs. It almost sort of looks like… “This a dragon you got on your skin?” he asks. “Name was fittin’ in more ways that one, huh?”

Jesse runs his fingers along the vertical lines running up Dragon’s stomach, feeling the muscles tremble with his touch. He flattens his hands when he reaches Dragon’s pecs, palming the defined curves and giving each a squeeze. It’s a nice, satisfying handful. Above him, Dragon sucks in another harsh breath. Jesse glances upward to see Dragon’s mouth curving downward into a frown. A little tendril of second guessing and doubt curls inside of Jesse but he snuffs it out before it gets a chance to grow. He doesn’t have any use for such a useless feeling, not when he’s got a beautiful man in front of him and the right to touch all he fucking wants. By law of the Deadlock gang, Jesse’s perfectly within his rights to take his pleasure and damn it, that’s just what Jesse is going to do. 

Jesse focuses back on the feast in front of him, pressing his mouth against Dragon’s skin. He kisses the top of Dragon’s stomach and drags his lips upward to trace the beginning lines of the tattoo. It’s a real pretty decoration for Dragon, real fitting, and Jesse likes it. Dragon’s chest starts to heave again, and Jesse pets his side to soothe him. Again, it would be easier to have the man into it than not.

When he reaches a nipple, Jesse moves his mouth over it and latches on. He gives the nipple a small suck and is nearly knocked backward when Dragon stumbles forward like he’s chasing the pleasure and wants more. Jesse laughs and steadies the man. That’s more like it. “Did ya like that?” he murmurs and does it again. He’s reward with a choked-back whimper and a rock of Dragon’s hips. “Mmm, sugar, you sound so pretty,” Jesse whispers. Jesse wraps an arm around Dragon and holds him close as he continues to suck, pulling out more pretty noises from behind Dragon’s clenched teeth. Dragon tries to keep himself quiet, swallowing the sounds like he’s not used to being so vocal. 

He’s probably not. Poor man’s probably had to restrain himself numerous times while just jerking off, if Jesse has to venture a guess. And ain’t that a pretty thought, gorgeous man like Dragon getting pleasure out of his own hand, having to cover his mouth so no one hears.

Jesse diverts to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment while he plays with the wet bud he left behind. Dragon’s little whimpers turn into a full-on whine, abruptly silenced when he realizes how loud he’s being. “Don’t stop on my account, darlin’,” Jesse tells him and slides his hand downward. Truth be told, Jesse’s getting off on Dragon’s little whimpers. “You make all the noise you want.” He palms Dragon’s crotch, feeling the hard dick tenting the fabric of his pants, and Dragon moans. Damn, that’s nice.

“How about we take these off, huh?” Jesse makes fast work of Dragon’s belt, unbuckling it and letting it dangle, and unzips his pants. The bulge of Dragon’s hard cock, still covered by his underwear, pokes through the opening and Jesse strokes it with his fingers. “This for me, darlin’?”

Dragon steps backward, shaking his head. “No...” he hisses but Jesse reels him back in, putting him between Jesse’s legs again. Best to let the man know that he’s to stay put before he gets the bit between his teeth and tries to make a run for it.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” Jesse teases. He delves his hand beneath the waistband of Dragon’s underwear, to brush up against Dragon’s naked cock and the rough patch of hair surrounding it. He grins as Dragon’s eyes snap open. Jesse wants to see what Dragon looks like when he’s coming, wonders if he’s the type that cries out helplessly or one of the ones that’s perfectly silent when the orgasm washes over him.

“No,” Dragon repeats and tries to move away again.

Jesse firms his jaw and shakes his head as he pushes Dragon’s clothes off his hips and past his thighs so that they fall to the ground. “No ain’t an option here, sweetheart. Sorry.” The problem here is Dragon thinking that he’s got a say in this matter, like the choice hasn’t already been made for him. As soon as he accepts that this is happening regardless of what he says, the better off he’ll be. Dragon’s hard cock springs free, bouncing in front of Jesse, and Jesse grabs it, running a thumb over the head. “Looks like this is saying yes,” he drawls and gives him a good stroke. It’s as pretty as the rest of the man. Not terribly big, but well-formed none-the-less and Jesse rather likes it. He thinks he can get his whole mouth around it and that’s just perfect in his book.

Dragon’s answering moan is low and deep, drawn from the very depths of him, and Jesse feels pleased as punch at how turned on the man is, despite what his mouth has been saying—doubly so when Dragon starts to fuck his hand. “Oh, there you go, darlin’,” Jesse says, watching as Dragon’s cock slides in and out of his fist. “That’s it.” 

Seeing Dragon taking his pleasure from Jesse’s hand has got Jesse sweating like a sinner in church. Goddamn, but Jesse can’t wait to do all the things he’s been thinking about since he first laid eyes on the man.

Too bad the moment doesn’t last. Dragon’s moan strangles in his throat, dissolving into a hard grunt as he bites it off. His innate stubbornness rises up and he tries to pull away again, but Jesse doesn’t let him, holding on tight to the one body part that makes a man to stand up and listen better than any other. Time to let the man know that Jesse’s only got so much patience. With Dragon momentarily stopped, Jesse drops his hand down a little lower and gets a good handle on the man’s balls. He gives them a little warning squeeze, impassively watching the pain flit across Dragon’s face. Jesse doesn’t like to hurt, but he will if he needs to. He knows all kinds of terrible shit that a man can do to another man. “Now, I told you, if you make this easy, I’ll go gentle on you.” Dragon stares down at where Jesse has got him in a bind, chewing on his bottom lip, as he works through his limited options. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant, darlin’,” Jesse tells him. “In fact, I’d rather it not be. But it can.”

Jesse’s well aware of how unpleasant it can get. He’s seen more than his fair share—been on the receiving end more than once. It’s all experiences that he doesn’t care to repeat.

All he wants is a nice time with the pretty man in front of him and Dragon had better get cooperative real quick. Jesse’s got a lot of patience, but he’s not going to let this take all night to get what he wants. He gives Dragon’s balls a tug, making him wince and inch forward. “Now how about you stop fighting me so I can suck on your cock for a little while?”

Dragon shudders, his breath catching in his throat as he stumbles forward on his own. Jesse takes that to mean that he and Dragon are finally on the same page, at least for this next part. “That’s a good boy,” Jesse praises and softens his grip to a lingering caress. He runs his fingers along the underside of Dragon’s balls, returning to his cock. He taps the head. “I like cocks, like looking at ‘em, like sucking on ‘em… Yours is pretty cute,” he says and watches how Dragon’s upset frown turns into an indignant glower. He laughs. “A man don’t ever like to hear his equipment referred to as ‘cute’, right?” He wraps a hand around it, fist spanning the majority of it’s length, and uses his other hand to pull Dragon down until his lips are within reach. Dragon glares at him and Jesse grins. “But it is.” He kisses Dragon, lips pressing together, as his hand strokes Dragon’s cock hard and fast. 

Dragon pants against Jesse’s mouth, body shifting and twisting as Jesse wrings pleasure out of him. Jesse presses his advantage, tongue slipping between Dragon’s open lips to steal a taste of him and Dragon gasps, a sweet little sound that zips through Jesse like a flash of molten lust. Jesse groans. “How about you c’mere and lay down, darlin’?” he mutters and tugs Dragon down onto the bed. Jesse needs to get his own pants off like yesterday. His dick is about ready to burst through his jeans.

Landing awkwardly on his side beside Jesse, Dragon lolls his head back against the bed, toes off his shoes and lifts his leg to open himself up, giving Jesse room to work. Oh. Oh, that’s nice. “ _Good boy_ ,” Jesse purrs, turning and shifting to kneel between Dragon’s legs, getting Dragon more on his back. “Damn good boy...” Dragon looks down his body at Jesse, biting his lip again to try and silence all the noises that Jesse wishes he would voice. Jesse buries his face in Dragon’s groin, lips and tongue teasing the sensitive skin. When he spreads Dragon’s legs a little wider, Dragon doesn’t fight it, just moves how Jesse wants him, leaving himself open and vulnerable and goddamned sexy as hell. “Think you’ll like this,” Jesse tells him and takes Dragon’s cock into his mouth.

A string of words burst from Dragon’s lips and Jesse doesn’t understand a single one. He figures it means that he’s doing a good job and keeps at it, tongue licking along the underside of Dragon’s cock, while his lips seal around the shaft. He creates a bit of suction and Dragon bucks up into his mouth with a sharp cry, heels digging into the bed to get his hips higher.

Jesse chokes and pulls off with a cough. “Damn, darlin’...” Dragon looks at him, bottom lip sucked back between his teeth again, brow furled, and so obviously wanting more that Jesse groans. “ _Damn,_ darlin’” he repeats and leans back down. In this moment, Jesse thinks that he might give up his entire stockpile of whiskey to see that look on Dragon’s face again. Fuck, the man is gorgeous. Jesse pins Dragon’s hips to the bed and noses along the length of Dragon’s cock as Dragon squirms in his grip. He licks the shaft and chuckles as Dragon tries to buck his hips. “You want something?” he asks, flicking his eyes back up to watch Dragon’s needy expression edge back into a glower. “You ask nicely and I might.”

Damnedest thing. Dragon blushes and turns his head away and Jesse’s engine is reving up into overdrive. He climbs up Dragon’s body to loom over him, torso keeping Dragon’s legs nicely spread as he nudges his neglected cock against Dragon’s firm backside. Dragon’s mouth drops open. “Mmm, yeah, Dragon,” Jesse moans.

Dragon’s eyes dart from Jesse’s face down to where their hips connect and back up again. “Hanzo,” he whispers.

“What’s that, darlin’?” Jesse didn’t quite catch that. He drops himself down on to his elbows and rubs his face against Dragon’s, the roughness of their beards grating over skin. Jesse shivers. Fuck, he loves that. There’s no mistaking that he’s with a man when he’s got a hard cock poking against his stomach and the beard burn warming his face.

“Hanzo,” Dragon repeats. “Call me Hanzo.”

Jesse pauses, trying to process what he’s being told. “Hanzo?” The name’s foreign on his tongue, but he thinks he manages a pretty good mimicry of it.

Dragon nods—either Jesse got it right or close enough. “Hanzo.” Hanzo it is. Jesse can work with that.

“Mmm, Hanzo,” Jesse murmurs and licks at the skin of Hanzo’s throat. Hanzo shudders and presses up against Jesse, his back arching to grind his hips into Jesse’s. Jesse pulls back and has to catch his breath because having Hanzo underneath him and wanting him is hotter than the damn sun. Jesse roughly palms Hanzo’s cock again, giving a good solid few strokes. “You wanna come, Hanzo?” Jesse rasps. “You’re so fucking beautiful...”

Hanzo nods hurriedly, pushing himself into Jesse’s grip with shameless desperation and Jesse ain’t ever been the kind of man to turn down a request like that. He works his hand hard and fast on Hanzo’s cock, then scoots down to wrap his mouth around the head again.

Hanzo’s breath hitches and his body fights against Jesse’s weight, legs churning against the bed as his cock spasms and empties into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse moans and swallows it down. When Hanzo sags against the bed, finally spent, Jesse pulls off and noses at his wet cock with a purr. “Good boy.” Hanzo shudders.

“Real good boy...” With Hanzo soft and pliant on the bed, Jesse reaches across to the stand and grabs up the oil that he sometimes uses when he’s feeling a bit peculiar. Hanzo’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath and Jesse can’t help but stare. He’s prettier than that statue that Jefe had wanted so damn badly.

Jesse coats two fingers in the oil and slips them down between Hanzo’s legs. His own cock is throbbing with anticipation and Jesse knows that he ain’t going to make much of a showing, not with how wound up he is, but he’s going to try and make this last if he can. He also knows that he’s got about as much of a chance of that as a fish surviving in the desert.

Hanzo tenses when Jesse’s dips beneath his balls, seeking his entrance, and Jesse’s about to open his mouth and tell him something akin to ‘relax’ when Hanzo apparently makes up his mind to do just that and opens his legs nice and wide, his body going lax again. “There you go,” Jesse mutters and slips a finger inside.

It’s warm inside of Hanzo, just like Jesse knew it would be, and he presses is as deep as his finger can reach as he watches expressions cross Hanzo’s pretty face, each one chasing off the other. There’s a bit of discomfort there, going by the wince, but it’s gone quick as it came, replaced by Hanzo’s mouth slowly dropping open, his eyes closed and his brow furling with pleasure. Jesse quickly slips his other finger in and then runs them both along Hanzo’s inner walls, looking for that place that feels so good inside.

Hanzo jerks, jackknifing to the side as a low moan starts up deep inside his throat and Jesse knows that he’s found what he was looking for. “There it is,” he says, more for something to say than anything meaningful. He presses against the spot again and enjoys how Hanzo’s face moves with the pleasure.

He’s so damn beautiful. Jesse kind of wishes that he could stare forever.

Only, his own cock is getting pretty demanding, wanting him to either get himself inside or just jerk off right here and now and of those two options, Jesse knows which one he prefers, but he doesn’t think he’d be too picky at the moment, either. “Hope that’s good,” he says to himself and shifts.

Hanzo’s pretty eyes flutter open when Jesse pulls his fingers out, blinking in confusion, but Jesse only lets him be confused for just a minute before he’s getting himself in place and slowly pushing in.

“Ahhhh,” Hanzo says, his mouth open wide. He tries to squirm away but Jesse traps him in place, holding him down on the bed.

“Just...” Jesse bites his lip as he fights back the urge to come. Cripes, he’s not even fully inside and he’s already a goner. “Just hold still, there, darlin’, I’m begging you.” He bows over Hanzo’s body and Hanzo snaps his full attention to Jesse, staring up at him. “Does it...” Jesse swallows. “Does it hurt? I can get some more oil…?”

Hanzo slowly shakes his head. Which question he’s answering, Jesse doesn’t know. It could be either of his or another one entirely. Hanzo’s so tight and hot around him, slick and gripping Jesse so nicely that Jesse knows he’s only going to last a few minutes if that. It’s pathetic, but that’s the best he’s going to get. “You okay with me moving, darlin’?” Jesse asks. He has no idea what he’ll do if Hanzo says no.

Hanzo glances down at where Jesse is joined with him, then back up. He slowly nods. Jesse starts, a slow, easy slide that has got him sweating bullets nonetheless and, no, he ain’t going to last long at all. It’s been far too long since he’s had anything but his hands to please himself, not trusting any of the snakes he’s holed himself up with to help him out. A man’s got needs and Jesse has been neglecting his.

Hanzo’s moans are not helping him maintain his composure, either, pleasure-filled sounds that are getting louder and louder despite Hanzo’s best attempts to choke them back. Hanzo turns his face to press against the bed, his entire body writhing. His arms struggle against the restraints and Jesse thinks about taking them off, wonders what Hanzo would do if he did. Would Hanzo let him continue? Would he try to run? Jesse doesn’t know, so he just keeps on going how it is.

“Prettiest music I've ever heard,” Jesse mutters and the flush on Hanzo’s face darkens. Hanzo’s spent cock is lying limp and shy against his leg and Jesse reaches down to give it a little stroke. Hanzo gasps, his body jerking.

“No...” Hanzo moans and twists to the other side.

“No?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo pants. “Too much.” 

Oh. Yeah, Jesse gets that. He moves his hand to wrap around the underside of Hanzo’s leg instead, using the leverage to drag him as close as possible. “Okay, darlin’,” he mumbles, half to himself. “Okay. Here I go.” The end is approaching, much sooner than Jesse would like it to, but he ain’t going to have a choice in the matter. He’s already starting to shudder, his rhythm stuttering like a engine ready to explode, and all Jesse can do now is just shove himself into Hanzo’s tight heat and hang on tight.

Light explodes behind Jesse’s closed eyelids, pleasure radiating through him, and he pushes in as deep as he can, spilling inside of the warmth that encases him. “ _Fuck_ ,” Jesse says, the word full of all that he’s feeling at the moment.

Hanzo’s heaving like a well run horse beneath him and Jesse opens his eyes just to stare. Dear Lord in Heaven but the man is beautiful. Jesse could stare all day. Hanzo’s eyes cut over to Jesse’s and Jesse shudders as desire ripples through his overtaxed body. There’s still a challenge in Hanzo’s eyes, a refusal to break, and Jesse likes that. He really, really does.

For a moment, a brief moment, Jesse gives some thought to the future, wishing this could be forever. That’s dangerous. There is no future in the desert. There’s just the here and now, putting one foot in front of the other because you never knew when your life would come to an end. All of the Deadlock Gang understood that. The ones that didn’t, well, they soon found themselves 6 feet under—if they were lucky. 

In the gang you were either smart enough and ruthless enough to make it to the bosses or you kept your head down and minded your own fucking business. Over the years, Jesse had seen enough guys come and go to learn that lesson quite well.

Jesse pulls himself free of Hanzo and lays down beside him. He runs a hand over Hanzo’s chiseled stomach, feeling as Hanzo sucks in a quick breath. Jesse surveys his face for a long while before leaning in and brushing a kiss over Hanzo’s lips. 

Hanzo kisses him back, a soft press of his mouth with a hint of tongue, and Jesse smiles. Hanzo looks back at him, then leans into Jesse’s space of his own accord and kisses Jesse again. Jesse meets him.

In an hour or two, Jesse might be ready for another go. He’ll have to see.

Here and now, Hanzo’s his. In the future, Jesse doesn’t know. A guy like Hanzo, someone might be missing him, and if there’s a ransom offered, Jesse ain’t flush enough to give Jefe a better offer. So Jesse will take this just one step at a time.


End file.
